


Chocolat

by Cryon



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: (just a tinge of it to kickstart things really), Angst, F/F, Fluff, Introspection, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryon/pseuds/Cryon
Summary: “Say, Homu.” A pause, heavy with a sinking tension. “What are we exactly anyway?”A tentative answer came after what seemed like an eternity. “Friends?” Unconvincing, unconvinced.“Friends don’t roll around naked in a bed, Homu.”
Relationships: Akemi Homura & Sakura Kyouko
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Chocolat

**Author's Note:**

> Written so late in the night it was early in the morning. Don't even ask me what timeline this is taking place into.

The last to arrive was Homura. Like usual, though not always: she had technique on her side, enough to compensate for that troubling sensitivity of hers… most of the time. There had been occasions when a lack of focus, a loss of concentration had stolen from her fingers their deftness and brought about her demise. For an intense couple of minutes, she’d believed this to be one such time. Until, right as the buildup of heat had been about to surpass a manageable threshold, Kyouko had slowed down, and thus sealed her loss in the race to the climax. Homura tensed up along with her, wincing from the stinging pain spreading through her shoulder.

It wasn't the first time Kyouko had bitten her. She should have seen it coming; but it was too late, or perhaps Kyouko had been too early. It was hard to imagine she'd consciously taken advantage of her sudden rush of primal energy to deliver a final, unstoppable blow against Homura's resistances. The teeth sunk into her skin, the faster, almost desperate movements of her fingers, were without a doubt a byproduct of instinct. Like a dying beast exerting the last of its remaining strength in a great spurt, she attacked Homura relentlessly even as her body had almost finished shaking from the throes of pleasure coursing through it. Too much, too sudden. Mere seconds after Kyouko, Homura squirmed as she finally found herself unable to withstand the burning sensations enveloping her.

They broke the tangled embrace of their limbs with a duet of tired sighs, ending up lying beside each other on the large bed. An empty gap separated them, a valley of creased, damp sheets. Somehow, in their own personal way, they felt a much deeper and larger one between them, an invisible abyss of unfathomable proportions, in sheer defiance of the intimacy they had just shared. For a while, they listened in silence to each other's subsiding breaths, eyes fixated on the fuzzy patterns their brains painted over the pristine ceiling.

“Did you…”

Kyouko turned her head aside. From above the pillow it was sunk in, she could see a glimpse of Homura’s face: it looked listless, as ever.

“Did I what.” It wasn’t a question. Kyouko hadn’t meant to make it sound like one. To Homura, it sounded like the tone she would hear when the redhead wanted to pick a fight. Not a question - rather, a challenge.

“Nothing.” The answer came at the tail end of a pause too long to make it sound convincing. Homura didn’t need to look to her side to know that she would have found Kyouko’s arched brow awaiting her.

“What’d I do?” Still an edge to her voice, but softened this time. A predator’s clumsy attempt to lure its prey. Kyouko knew. But she knew also how to make up for it. “What  _ didn’t _ I do, Homu?”

“Nothing.” The same response. The same tone. The same, unchanging Homura. Had it not been for that single word and for the heaving of her chest, she could have passed for a doll, lying there on the bed waiting to be dressed in elegant garments. All it did to Kyouko was tug an annoyed huff out of her.

“So that means I did  _ everything _ then?”

“I didn’t take you for the type to delve into semantics.” A smile, little more than a corner of her lips curving up by a few degrees. How long ago had Kyouko finally learned how to catch it as distinctly as she could now?

“I’m not dumb, you know.”

“I do.”

It was the truth. Plain and direct, like Homura herself. The reason why Kyouko couldn’t deal so easily with her. The reason why she…

“Didn’t you like it?”

Ah, dammit. She would have wanted it to sound fiercer, throw a merciless accusation in that monotone face of hers. Between the two of them, unfortunately, she was the one who had to live with her mistakes. There was no rewinding time to fill her voice with resentment, rather than worry.

“...I did.”

A slight tinge of red, eyes darting away. That she could act so bashful yet be so straightforward, despite - or perhaps  _ because _ of everything… how troublesome. She truly was a pain in the behind to deal with. The only person more annoying than Homura for Kyouko was Kyouko herself, for reasons such as the fact that she, too, was blushing. The idiotic grin she failed to stifle was just the moldy cherry on top of the soggy pie.

“Heh. Not too bad for sloppy seconds, right?”

She said so with pride, shoving her hands behind her head to hide the fact they’d curled into tight fists. Shutting her eyes close, hoping that like so, it wouldn’t transpire from them that she regretted pronouncing those words out loud. It worked, perhaps too well. Homura’s expression grew pensive as it did oblivious.

“I wouldn’t call them sloppy.” Her final verdict, hesitant and sincere.

“But you’re not denying that they  _ are _ seconds.”

Again. That challenging, vicious tone. It soured the look on Homura’s face, before pushing it away from Kyouko’s unhidden frown. A confirmation to that claim failed to arrive, as did a refutal. She kept quiet instead, unsure how to answer. Knowing only she would have rather not been made to ponder over it to begin with.

“Nevermind.”

Mercy, or perhaps further mercilessness. Whichever it was, Kyouko doled it out with a groan as she leaned over to her bedside table. She lied back down holding the half-empty box of Pocky sticks, and for a while, the room was filled with the sound of her chomping.

“Hey.”

Homura forced herself to turn around once more. Kyouko’s face greeted her with a stick jutting out of her puckered mouth - expectantly, maybe a bit apologetically. A bit pushy for an apology, admittedly… it was typically Kyoukoish. She blinked once, then twice, before leaning in with a resigned sigh. Her lips closed around the chocolate-covered stick and began their advance, imitated by Kyouko’s on the opposite end. Their eyes reflected each other’s as they devoured sweet biscuit and the centimeters separating their visages. Calm gazes, rushing heartbeats. A connection beyond mere words or a flimsy stick of food. Though just as fragile, it was unmistakably there, and this was proof of it - should have been.

They could feel the air from one another’s noses wafting over their own chins now. Another bite, another push, and their lips would meet, like they’d done so in the heat of mere minutes prior. Then the last bite came - a sudden snap, leaving the Pocky stick broken and the two girls separated by a transparent wall. Homura shifted back to her side of the bed, hurriedly chewing and staring at the ceiling with renewed, awkward interest. Kyouko remained how she’d been left: only the fingers clutching the corner of her pillow ‘til its knuckles turned white indicated that time had not frozen for her.

“I see.” She spat the words and swallowed the snack, unable to keep herself from doing the opposite. Falling back onto her pillow, she shifted to rest on her side, showing her back to Homura while hiding an anger on her visage that betrayed a tad too much. Futile - she did so anyway.

“Guess you like ‘em better pink.”

She tried to focus on the prickly sensation of her teeth biting into her own lip. A pointless attempt. The silence haunted Kyouko until she felt Homura shuffling behind her, lying on the opposite side like her specular image.

“I wish you hadn’t said that.”

A quiet murmur, muffled by the effort of swallowing down a rough lump. Understandable: it bled a kind of emotion Kyouko herself was feeling. Jagged knives of ice grating on a heart of glass.

“Me too.”

The inexorable march of time, unmerciful to those who looked behind. Their chests ached beyond the need for tears. A somber depth of sadness, prying open a void that could have so easily been fulfilled, if only they’d let themselves.

“You guessed right, earlier. I held back at the last moment.” Each word, she had to force out with such effort, Kyouko feared her throat would bleed dry before she could finish.

“Why?” Even just that lone sound left in its wake a bitter aftertaste inside Homura’s mouth. The flavor of fear. Like the opposite of longing for a dream which had already ended.

“I dunno. I guess… I was feeling petty. Jealous.” A brief search for the right crystallization of her thoughts into a form that could properly vocalize them. “Scared.”

“Scared?” In a way, it was a rhetorical question. Homura was scared, too. Of what, she couldn’t quite admit it to herself yet. But it was only now that Kyouko admitted herself to be so, that it had become clear.

Kyouko nodded quietly. “Say, Homu.” A pause, heavy with a sinking tension. “What are we exactly anyway?”

A tentative answer came after what seemed like an eternity. “Friends?” Unconvincing, unconvinced.

“Friends don’t roll around naked in a bed, Homu.”

“Then…”

Then what? The question lingered, filling the gap between them without an answer to dispel it once and for all. Kyouko’s heavy, resigned sigh called the curtains on the pathetic scene, leaving them both wallowing in their doubts.

Until, like lightning flashing by a gray sky, something broke the stillness: a squeaky yelp, a movement so sudden it made the whole bed jump. A wide-eyed Homura moved her leg, prodding around: the tip of her toe found again the squirming sole of Kyouko’s foot, which she’d accidentally brushed the instant before. A hesitant poke; a moment later, a gentle nudge. Their heels met, ankles overlapped, calves locked together in a delicate exchange of caresses that painted a smile on the visages staring at opposite sides of the same room. Words had failed them enough. For now, this silent, intimate reconciliation suited them better.

Their shoulders shook with muffled hints of giggling, overlapping vibrations sent through the mattress. The first to turn around was Homura - of course, like always. She cradled over to Kyouko’s side, reached past her smiling expression while leaning on her body on purpose, and took out a Pocky stick from the now empty box. Her gaze bore down on the other girl: where once had been melancholy ice, there lingered now a subdued warmth, and even if they were little more than embers, they burned with the brightness of a sincerely admitted confession. Without fanfare, nor bombast: like the Homura Kyouko knew.

“Be honest, Kyouko. You just wanted to be spoiled.”

Surprise, awkwardness, embarrassment - in other words, bullseye. A pouty-faced Kyouko, redder than her own hair, tried in vain to turn away, but only managed to shift her eyes a bit, and not for long. Soon, they were filled again with the reflection of Homura’s unhidden bemusement, and her own arms reaching around the other’s neck.

“Would it kill you to smile like that more often?”

“Probably.” She punctuated the sentence by filling her mouth with one of the stick’s sides. The other lingered just out of reach of Kyouko’s pout.

“That’s kind of a problem then.” A whisper coated the snack, two pairs of half-lidded eyes peering deep into each other from the thin, fragile extremities connecting the girls. “I like you too much to kill you.”

Kyouko’s lips locked on empty air. She followed with bewildered shock the Pocky stick flying out of her sights, then stared at the girl who’d flung it away without a second thought. Homura’s visage, growing until it filled Kyouko’s vision with the hungering, genuine passion of her smile.

“And I like you just enough that I wouldn’t mind dying for you, Kyouko.”

As their lips met, the taste of their entangling tongues felt far sweeter than milky chocolate.


End file.
